


Sounds Like Drumming

by daisyisawriter91



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Quote: I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition. (Supernatural), Reunions, The Empty (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28004079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisyisawriter91/pseuds/daisyisawriter91
Summary: After Castiel confessed to Dean, Dean realized a simple fact: it couldn't end that way.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 66





	Sounds Like Drumming

**Author's Note:**

> Never let me have access to the Hadestown soundtrack, it makes me yearn.

_It couldn’t end this way._

That was what Dean Winchester knew the moment his angel was wrapped in the Empty’s clutches.   
A single second could last a lifetime. And the moment Cas was taken away from him, he found out truly what that meant.  
Watching Cas be ripped away from him? That second extended well into eternity.

Even after restoring humanity and defeating Chuck, Dean’s work wasn’t done. Far from it. He _needed_ Cas back more than wanted.  
It couldn’t end with a love confession. That’s it, no more Cas.   
No, it was too unacceptable to think of. They needed Cas, all of them did. None more so than Dean. No one could possibly need Cas more than him.

The whiskey bottle sat untouched on his nightstand. Just as he always had in the past, he was planning to drink himself into a coma, as if it would make the problem go away.   
It never worked.  
What would _actually_ make the problem go away would be fixing it. And bringing him home.

Dean searched the archives for anything that might help. He wasn’t stupid enough to think rock salt would work on the Empty of all beings. He wasn’t stupid enough to think a normal angel blade would do damage.

The dust of the archives was becoming a welcoming, familiar scent. He could only hope he would get the chance to come back. Maybe with Cas in tow, to hide and make out in the shelves like they were teenagers.  
Dean was half certain Cas didn’t even remember being a teenager, being literally over a million years ago.

The protection charm looked promising. He needed as much help as he could get, after all.  
Infiltrating the Empty as a human didn’t exactly sound like the easiest thing he’d ever done. But he’d try it a million times if that was what it took. More, even.

Dean rummaged through the boxes haphazardly. If he listened hard enough, he could hear Sam’s voice scolding him.

“Dean? What are you doing?”

Either he’d gone insane with grief, or Sam was standing right behind him.  
Taking a gamble, he turned around to find the very man he’d been thinking of. Well. The other one.

Sam looked disgruntled, almost like he’d just been woken up. Maybe he had been.  
The man didn’t even have the decency to try to hide his hickeys from his older brother.

“Uh, would you believe me if I said I was looking for weed?” Dean poked at levity. Sam only fixed him with his trademark _I’m not buying this_ face.   
“Dean.” Sam warned, tone flat.

Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. He hadn’t had time to grieve until recently, and he had no doubt it showed.  
“I’m gonna go get him, Sam. I gotta. There ain’t a future for me without him. You and I both know that.” 

Sam nodded, clearly deep in thought. “Yeah, I figured. It’d be pretty weird if you didn’t, actually.”

After so many years of traveling with his brother, he should have anticipated that. But he hadn’t. He had half expected a ruthless scolding for wanting to do something so stupid. 

“Right. Well. I’m just gonna...get what I need and call up Jack. See if he can let me into the Empty.”  
“Good. I’ll grab my shoes.” Sam turned to leave.  
“No.”

That stopped his brother in his tracks. He turned back to look at Dean, even more confused than he’d been when he walked in.

“Why not? Aren’t we going now?”  
“No, _we’re_ not. I am.” Dean corrected. Clearly, it was the wrong thing to say. He could see the _angry Sam_ posture beginning to set in.  
“Enough with the martyrdom, Dean!”  
“It isn’t martyrdom, Sam.” Dean wanted to keep his voice down for this particular argument. “It isn’t.”  
“Then what the hell do you call it?”  
“I call it giving you and Eileen a shot. I call it cleaning up my own messes and fixing what I broke. I call it saving the man who died for me more times than I can count.”

Sam appeared to be wavering.  
“Please, Sam. It’s my fault he’s there. I should be the one to get him out. I owe him that, and…”

Clearly, his brother put two and two together, as his eyes widened ever so slightly. “You’re really gonna tell him?”  
“Yeah. He deserves to hear it.”

After a moment’s deliberation, Sam nodded.   
“Okay. Okay, fine. But if you’re not back by sunrise, I’m telling Jack to bring you back. With or without Cas.”  
Dean checked his watch.  
Give or take a couple minutes, he had six hours to sunrise. It wasn’t the most ideal time crunch, as far too often, things came up. _Time consuming things._  
But he could do it.  
For Cas.

“Okay. That works for me.”

Deciding he was as prepared as he’d ever be, Dean took a deep breath and sent a prayer out to Jack. 

Jack appeared before their eyes with a slight _pop_ sound. He had a smile on his face, as he normally did, and he wore the same clothes they’d last seen him in. He raised his hand.  
“Hello.”

“Jack, here’s the skinny-” Dean began. Jack shook his head, lowering his hand.  
“I already know. You have until sunrise. Good luck.”  
With a snap of his fingers, Dean was gone.

Being forcibly teleported wasn’t a feeling Dean would ever get used to. Always causing a lurch in his stomach.

Taking a look around, Dean felt his heart drop straight through his stomach. 

There was nothing. Nothing but an endless, black void. Dean had known the place was called the Empty, but he hadn’t expected it to be so... _empty._

“Cas?” Dean called. His voice bounced around like an echo through a cave. “Cas!”

“Be _quiet._ ”

Dean startled, whirling around to face the speaker. His hand instinctively reached for a gun he didn’t have. 

Standing behind him was an all too familiar face, one he’d been certain he would never see again.

“Crowley?” Dean asked, his brow furrowing. In an odd way, it was refreshing to see him. In another, devastating.  
Crowley stood before him, in his characteristic all black suit, nearly blending in with the scenery around them.  
“Close. Not quite. Your man Cas didn’t tell you?”

A few of the dots connected in Dean’s mind.   
“So you’re the Empty.” He deduced.  
“Bingo.”

Dean’s brain worked quicker than it ever had before, trying to figure out how he’d outsmart the Empty now that it stood before him.  
“Stop thinking so hard, you’re gonna hurt yourself. I know why you’re here. And I am so _bloody_ sick of you and that angel of yours _WAKING ME UP!_ ”

Even if the Empty wasn’t Crowley, it certainly had his speech pattern down to a science. Dean tried not to let his flinch show.

“So I’m gonna cut you a deal, like this demon used to. I’ll let you see where your man is, even lead you right to him. With conditions.”  
There was always a catch. But whatever the price, Dean would pay it. It was for Cas, he would pay with his life if need be.  
“What are they?” Dean kept the desperation out of his voice.

The Empty grinned at that, a very foreign expression on Crowley’s face. Smirks and evil smiles, Dean had seen those. But the grin of mania? That was new.

“If you wake up _anyone else_ sleeping here, you and your brother and anyone else you associate with is never coming back here, and your angel’s never getting out. And if you _do_ manage to get him back, he’s never coming back.”  
Dean blinked, confused.  
“Wait, you mean he’ll become a ghost if he dies again? Is that even possible?”

The Empty shrugged, nonchalant. “I don’t know, and I definitely don’t care. Send him anywhere else, but if I ever see him here, I’m taking you, your brother, and everyone you love. Understood?”

There was a possibility Cas wouldn’t die again. And surely, if he did, Jack would let his father into Heaven.  
He had to wager. He had to get Cas out.

“Alright, deal.”

Something in the Empty’s vacant eyes sparkled. “Good. Oh, and one more thing,”

It held out its hand, a red flower appearing in its palm. “This will lead you to him. If you damage it or lose it, you’ll be trapped here. Whether or not your angel boy interferes.”

Dean took the flower delicately from the Empty’s hand. As soon as he did, it vanished, leaving him, alone, with the velvety red petals.

That was, until he looked around him.

The black void was suddenly _full_. Angels and demons alike, all asleep beside each other. Vaguely, it reminded him of kindergarten nap time.  
Everyone pressed up against each other, fast asleep until something or someone woke them.

It couldn’t be Dean. 

He took a deep breath, trying not to react to the sleeping masses.  
A petal from the flower broke off, drifting on a nonexistent wind.  
“Okay, I’ve seen weirder.” He mumbled beneath his breath. 

Eyes flicking between the petal and the bodies below, he began to follow the flower’s lazy pace. He took careful steps to avoid limbs, clothes, and hair.

He tried not to look too close at the faces he recognized. But he saw them, anyways. Some he liked, quite a few that he didn’t.   
He was only here for one angel.

It didn’t matter he saw the brilliant red of Anna’s hair in the distance. Didn’t matter that he saw Balthazar shift for half a second, or Samandriel curl tighter in his sleep.  
Ruby, Meg, the real Crowley. Gabriel, Raphael, Billie. All important. But not who he was looking for.

Every breath he took was an echo; every step was a gunshot. In the echoing vastness, any sound he made could wake them.  
Even the frantic beating of his heart, he could swear made a noise for every being to hear.

The petal fell to the ground. Heart hitching with hope, Dean looked between the closest two beings. But neither were his angel.  
Another petal broke off the flower.

Dean checked his watch, his sense of time becoming distorted. The hands on the face spun in wild circles, a clear signal he wouldn’t be able to tell how much time he had left before sunrise.

You could have told him he’d been walking for ten minutes or ten years and he would have believed you.  
Every second was an exercise in torture. Every breath was another chance to wake a sleeper.  
It was worse than Hell.

Nothing was too much for him to handle, not when his objective was more important than his own heartbeat.

Dean stared ahead, only diverting his attention to ensure he didn’t step on anything.  
He didn’t look at faces. He didn’t assign names. Everything had to go faster. The petals had to fall quicker.

Going back home without Cas, after all this...failure would be a light word to describe it.

Petal after petal. Step after step. Breath after breath. On he soldiered, checking each time a petal fell.  
Still no sign of Cas.

Remembering the Empty’s warning, he took care to leave each fallen petal undisturbed, unsure if it would count as damaging the flower.

His exhaustion had faded the moment he entered the Empty. How long it would last when he was back home, he couldn’t say.   
It would all be worth it. He had to remind himself of that.  
This was all worth it.

The last petal drifted from his hand, falling down beside him. 

His heart stopped altogether.  
He looked to his left.

Dusty trench coat, ruffled black hair, peaceful face completely asleep. 

_Cas._

All Dean wanted to do was shout and yell to get him up, to talk to him _right then._ But he couldn’t.  
He’d come so far. He couldn’t blow it at the very end.

Instead, he gently tucked the remaining stem in his pocket and knelt beside Cas. Carefully, he lifted Cas from the ground, Cas’s head lolling into his shoulder. He didn’t stir, miraculously.

Dean took a lingering look at Cas’s serene expression - an extra moment to admire him - before the bodies around him vanished, replaced with the endless nothingness he’d arrived to.

“Well, I’m impressed.” The Empty appeared before him, suddenly, still wearing Crowley’s face. “I thought a lumbering sasquatch like you would fail instantly. But I’m an entity of my word. Now, _get out of my house._ ”

Another swooping sensation in his stomach, and Dean was back in the bunker. Not in the archives, as he’d thought, but in his bedroom.

Standing on solid, visible ground again, was odd. For a brief moment, the shapes in the room swam in front of his eyes before solidifying.

He liked that even less than being teleported to the Empty. 

In his arms, Cas began to stir. When his eyes started to blink open, Dean set him on the ground, keeping his arms on Cas’s shoulders to steady him.

Cas found his balance, his eyes squinting against the new light. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse from disuse and thick with confusion.

“Dean?”

His name had never sounded so beautiful.

“Cas.” Was all he could say. His eyes were beginning to sting. He didn’t attempt to hide it. What was there left to hide from him?

Cas’s eyes fully opened, a soft, knowing smile spreading on his face.  
“You saved me.”

The watery laugh Dean let out was only half-hearted.   
“About time I returned the favor, huh?”

Dean looked down and licked his lips, nervously. He refused to let his words get caught in his throat. Not after all that.  
“Cas, I…” He looked up, facing the music in his angel’s brilliant blue eyes. “I love you.”

Not letting Cas respond, Dean removed one hand from his shoulder to cup his face. As quickly as he could, without backing out, he surged forward and pressed his lips to Cas’s.

There was so much to consider about the future. So much to discuss, too much to think about.  
But none of that mattered.

What mattered was him, his angel, and that their futures were linked together.


End file.
